by Louisa Bacio
Long Haul
Louisa Bacio
Between California and Arizona, there’s a sweet patch of highway that encourages a man’s mind to wander. Randy’s mind always ends up in the same place—traveling the smooth planes of Sallie Mae’s tanned legs and following the line of sweat that snakes down her neck and disappears between her breasts. It’s all too easy to imagine her naked in the seat beside him, flirting, stroking, even straddling his legs and daring him to find a better way to go than at eighty miles an hour with a hot blonde in his lap. The fantasy alone makes concentrating on the road a struggle. He doesn’t have a clue how he’s going to manage to drive Sallie Mae home from college while keeping his mind on the road and his hands to himself. Especially with Sallie Mae all too willing to flirt, stroke and blow the lid right off his fantasy.
An EC for Men erotica story from Ellora’s Cave
LONG HAUL
Louisa Bacio
Chapter One
Randy parked his pickup truck in metered parking at Arizona State and waited for his companion for the drive to Southern California. As a medical sales rep, he regularly made the desert trek and enjoyed the solitude of the long, open road and a far-off destination. Between California and Arizona, there was a sweet patch of highway on Interstate 10 that stretches forever.
Late at night, it was just the driver, the stars and the car’s headlights slicing the darkness. Blackness dominated. Plenty of time to think, to dream and even to fantasize.
Hell, Randy had even pulled out his cock and stroked it hard, imagining a girl. Sallie Mae, the younger sister of his best friend, often played a feature role. And now reality had merged with his masturbation party. Alex had asked him to drive Sallie Mae, a junior at ASU, home over winter break.
So far, he’d never had the balls to take it all the way, to actually come while behind the wheel. He worried about keeping his eyes open. Keep your eyes on the road! old Mr. McNichol—his driver’s ed teacher—drilled in the back of his head. And two hands on the wheel! McNichol certainly hadn’t taken fucking into consideration. Randy imagined it wouldn’t be too easy to stay within the dotted lines as he lost his mind and his cock unloaded. Plus, from a practical standpoint, he didn’t want to clean up the mess.
Taking the drive with Sallie Mae might add some fuel to his fantasies though. They’d have to spend a good six or seven hours together—depending upon how many pit stops were needed—in close quarters. He imagined brushing up against her in the cab, maybe even copping a feel of her gorgeous breasts. He pushed the ideas out of his mind. He’d known her for too long and it wouldn’t be right. He shook his head, knocking out the improper thoughts.
Randy recognized her figure walking toward the truck before he could make out the features of her face. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw her. She was dressed in a denim skirt and a loose red sweatshirt. His mind went back to those days of watching her long legs in her cheerleading uniform. As soon as she smiled, his stomach lurched, threatening to dislodge his fast-food lunch. It felt like no time had passed at all. Forget meeting women in bars, Sallie Mae held his attention, even after all of these years.
She leaned over the seat to toss her duffle bag in the back. He glimpsed creamy thigh, the curve of her ass and a flash of a hot-pink thong. She bounced back onto her seat and snapped in her seatbelt.
“Thanks for picking me up and giving me a ride.” She stretched to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Where her lips touched, his skin pulsed with a different awareness, making him think of those late-night jerk-offs and he resisted the urge to wipe the spot.
“No problem. It’s good to have some company.”
He tried to think of some small talk to pass the time, but the memory of her ass peeking out from under her skirt distracted him. Sallie Mae may have been born and raised a SoCal girl, but her name harked back to her family’s Southern roots. Her mama had come from Atlanta and married an Italian man. Imagine that—a Southern Italian. In high school, she’d seemed to grow up overnight, turning into a woman with all the right curves. The way she’d moved, and giggled and smiled—how her skirt would brush up into the air with each step, revealing tanned thigh—he was dead sure he wasn’t the only teenage boy who’d dreamed of lying down beneath that old oak tree behind the football field with her.
Last he’d heard, she’d been dating some pre-med student. A surge of jealousy made his fists tingle. Randy clenched and unclenched his hands around the steering wheel, unable to imagine Sallie Mae giving her favors to someone else.
“Still dating the pretty boy, doctor-to-be?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“Dan? No, he got too serious too fast. I’m not ready to settle down. Right now, I’m looking to have some fun.”
He stole glances at her legs, the creamy smoothness on the upper thighs. When she sat down, that skirt of hers hiked up even farther. She had a scar on one knee from summer rollerblading. Would it still be there, or had it faded over time? What would it be like to slide his hand across the seat, glide up to her sweet honey-pot and dip his fingers in? The curve of her breast pressed out through her sweatshirt and he resisted the urge to touch.
The air-conditioning was blowing pretty good and they were jamming to her iPod. Even in the early evening, it was too hot out to drive with the windows down.
“Have you been letting your hair grow out?” She ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s wavier than I remember it.”
“It tends to curl if I let it go too much.” He glanced in the rear-view mirror. “But I got tired of the buzz cut.”
“I like it. Makes you look sexy.”
He watched her from the corner of his eye, trying to get a read on her comments. Was she simply touching him because she viewed him as a brother, or was it on purpose?
“Thanks.”
The physical interaction continued as the miles passed. When a particular song she liked came on, she squeezed his upper thigh. When he teased her about the screaming slumber parties she used to have as a teenager, she punched his upper arm.
“I know you and my brother used to spy on us,” she said. “We all wore our sexiest sleepwear on purpose!”
“As if pajamas at seventeen are revealing. I’d like to see what you sleep in these days.” He threw the comment out there, testing the flirtatious waters.
“Depends on where I am—I prefer butt-naked, but that’s not always easy to do in mixed company. How about you? Do you sleep in the buff?”
“Totally commando, and I don’t care who’s around.”
She laughed, deep and throaty, and ran her hand up his leg. “I’d like to see that. From the feel of the muscles on your thighs, I bet you look pretty good.”
All this talk about being naked was getting him hot. His pants tightened around his cock, and he needed to get out for some fresh air. He took the next exit in Blythe for a rest stop. Another three or four hours remained in the trip. He wasn’t sure if he was going to make it without putting his hands on her.
Chapter Two
At the gas station, he did his best to adjust his erection as he got out. How embarrassing. He was acting like a horny teen around her. She didn’t give him any time to recover. He heard the click of the passenger door, and she slid out—long legs first. Damn.
“How do you keep busy on the road?” she asked as she leaned against the truck while he pumped gas. Stretching, she bent down and touched her toes and let out a little whoosh. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. As if in slow motion, the back of her sweatshirt hiked up, displaying bare skin. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers along its softness. Hell, he wanted to tongue that sweet patch. When she looked up, she caught him staring at her. She gave him a wicked smile, like she knew every dirty fantasy in his mind and was willing t
o act them out in slow motion. His knees almost buckled from the power of the lust. He could take her right now. Forget finishing the trip. Maybe they could go park somewhere. She said she was into having fun, but was she that type of girl?
Slowly, purposefully, she raised her arms above her head. This time her shirt exposed her taut belly. The image of sticking his nose in her bellybutton and smelling her fragrance assaulted his mind. He turned back toward the gas display, pretending he had to check the numbers.
“Some books on tape,” he mumbled, “music, and a lot of thinking.” She’d busted him checking her out. Heat flared across his face. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice his embarrassment.
“What do you think about?” she asked, drawing out her words, emphasizing the “do” and kept on smiling. He could have jumped out of his pants with surprise. She moved closer, right next to him. She rubbed his upper thigh through his jeans, barely touching the tip of his cock. She couldn’t have known what she was doing, right? He glanced over at her, and at that moment, she decided to glide the tip of her tongue across her lips, making the soft pink lushness glisten even through the approaching darkness.
Damn. Maybe she did. Mr. Happy grew even harder, and he swore she smiled at his rise.
“You know,” he replied, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Stuff.”
Her hand slid just a wee bit higher. “What about stuff?” The way she said it made it sound so naughty. Made him think of what he wanted to stuff—his cock got stiffer.
For some reason, he just couldn’t let it go this time. “Sallie Mae, how am I supposed to be concentrating on talking with you doing that?” Randy glanced down at her roaming hand.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, all sweet. “Am I distracting you?” As she said it, she pressed her hand even more firmly against his tip. She moved a bit closer and he smelled the freshness of her perfume, citrusy and clean.
“Just being close to you, you’re distracting me. Rubbing your hand up my leg is about driving me crazy.”
She paused, as if to ponder her next comment, never taking her palm off his cock. “Don’t you like it?” she finally asked.
The gas pumped clicked off with a sound of finality. Hell, yes, I like it, he thought. Somehow, he couldn’t quite say that. Instead, he heard coming from his mouth, “I’m not quite sure it’s such a good idea.”
She pulled her hand away and a sudden coldness took the place of its warmth. “I’m sorry.” She yanked open her door and got back in the truck. “I’m sorry,” she repeated without looking at him.
After shutting her door, Randy stalked back to the driver’s side. Shit. He was such an idiot. Here she had all but placed herself in his lap and what did he do? He’d blown it. For a few minutes, they drove in silence, with only the voice of Damien Rice filling the cab. He thought about different ways to bring the subject back up, rejecting each one as selfish or just plain stupid.
“So where’s the weirdest place you ever had sex?” she asked.
His mind flashed to his ex, Michelle, her rounded ass up in the air as they fucked in the sand at Seal Beach, and the feel of her hot pussy in contrast to the cool sea air around them. Being outdoors and that thrill of being caught, man, now that was a high. The sand, they had to be careful about. One grain in the wrong place—ouch!
“Nowhere special. The beach at sunset. You?”
“In the science lab at school. Just knowing that another student could walk in at any moment made it even more exciting,” she said. She let that hang out there. “But I’ve always wanted to do it in a moving car. You know, fucking while others are on the road, without them really knowing what we’re doing. They call it automotive erotica.”
The meaning behind her statement hung heavy in the air. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to maneuver Mr. Happy into a position where he would feel more comfortable. Just fuck it. What have you been waiting for? What are you afraid of?
“I can help make that fantasy come true.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding more surprised than she should after her comment.
Yeah, he thought. I’d be more than happy to fuck you right now, right here.
“Do you really think that’s safe?” she asked.
With such a dangerous situation—fast moving vehicles, why risk it?
Fuck it. Why not? He couldn’t think of a better way to go.
“I’m a good driver. Never had an accident.” Feeling a bit of gusto, he reached over and ran his hand along the creamy smoothness of her thigh. He glided his hand along the skin. There wasn’t a wisp of hair, and he stole a look at the shock on her face. He’d had enough playing around.
The atmosphere inside the king cab changed. It was game-on.
Her eyes dipped closed as his fingers trailed even higher, seeking that sweet wet spot between her legs. He tickled the area over her clit, gently rubbing it between his thumb, index and middle finger. As he squeezed, she moaned.
“That’s it,” Sallie said. “Touch me.”
Up ahead, a few brake lights flashed and Randy brought his hand back on the wheel. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Sallie wasn’t into waiting, and was going to keep the ball rolling.
She reached down between her legs, pulling that damn skirt up, rubbing herself through her underpants, legs splayed and fingers flying. When she saw him watching her, she pulled aside the panties and dipped a finger inside herself, then wafted her hand in front of his face. Just the sweetest scent of pussy floated up his nose. On the second swipe, he captured her index finger with his lips and sucked hard, twirling his tongue around the digit and willing her to give him more. She was quick to oblige, except now it was his turn.
Randy was used to being the one in control. Not this time around. This was her game. She’d be calling the shots. Her show. Her fuck-fest fantasy.
She dropped her hand down and grasped his cock through his jeans. Randy sucked in a breath as she unzipped his pants, just like that. The cool air-conditioning met the heat of his growing cock. Sallie slipped a hand between his stomach and underwear, her nails slightly dragging against the tender skin of his groin, pulling his briefs down and freeing his erection.
It was all he could to do to keep his eyes on the road. He moaned out loud.
“Like that, do you Randy?” she asked.
“Oh, yes.” He checked the road in front of them. Whatever had made others brake had cleared and traffic flowed pretty well. Usually at this time of the night, Highway 10 was mostly clear with a scattering of semis making hauls into California, and a few odd tourists and commuters. The coast was as clear as it was going to get.
“More,” he managed. “Stroke it.”
She laughed low in her throat, knowing the power she held, and he didn’t care. He looked down and was quite proud to see Mr. Happy alert and ready to be pleased. She gripped his cock harder. Who was he kidding here? He was the one driving, she’d be the one riding. Talk about performance anxiety.
The distraction of keeping his eyes on the road—and open—added to the juicy sensations. It was as if his senses were enhanced.
When Randy had bought the truck, he’d worried about the bench seat in the front, wondered if he wouldn’t have preferred more luxurious, cushiony bucket seats. But as Sallie scooted her cute little ass closer, he thanked the gods for that bench seat. Thigh touching thigh, skin against skin, Sallie leaned over and encased him in her mouth in one smooth slide. It was all he could do not to clamp his eyes shut and get lost in the sensations. And, boy, could Sallie move that licker. Up and down she glided, twisting and twirling her tongue around the tip of his cock, her left hand rotating in the increasing wetness. Maybe he could drive with one eye shut?
She lifted her mouth, sucking on the tip of his cock, flicking her tongue all around the outside of the head and then plunging all the way back down again. The sensations overwhelmed him.
She knew exactly what to do without him even telling her. Once she got his member good and wet, sh
e slipped the fingertips of her right hand under his balls, pressing firmly against his body as she made a fist with her left hand and pistoned up his shaft in tempo with her mouth.
“Ah, yeah, that feels too good,” he moaned. Over the sounds of who-knows-what playing on the radio, he could hear her slurping and his own increasing sighs. Her lips lingered on his tip, her teeth tugging oh-so-gently as she gyrated her hand up and down, up and down as she cupped his balls. Randy could barely keep his eyes on the road, glancing down at the dream-come-reality of the top of her head bobbing in his lap.
The pressure built inside, behind the base of his cock, in his brain, his toes curling within his shoes. If she didn’t stop soon—like right now!—it’d be all over.
He kept his left hand on the wheel and entwined his fingers in her silky hair. Spun gold slid through his fingers. Gently, he held her steady, stopping all movement as he did his damnedest to keep himself from coming too soon, breathing deeply through his mouth and exhaling loudly. A moan escaped his own throat as she eased all the way down and swallowed his whole cock, as no girl had ever done.
“If you got anything else planned for me, baby, we better get to it.” His voice was guttural, feral. Part of him wished that she would continue right on, and another part begged for him to pull over and take her hard and fast.
Vibrations from her laughter traveled from the back of her throat down the base of his cock, into his hips and legs. She ignored his hand and increased the pace a bit more, a bit more, tantalizing him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He was just about to blow a wad right into her waiting mouth, and then she pulled off at exactly the last second—as though she already knew how to read his body. How he wished he could suck and kiss those tender, pouty lips of hers. If they were in the bedroom, he’d flip her over to her back and pound into her like there was no tomorrow. No foreplay, just one smooth stroke to her core.
She shimmied out of her panties and hiked up her cute little denim skirt, flashing the sweet nirvana between her legs and barely a glimpse of the rounded curve of her tanned ass. Lord Almighty, Sallie must have dressed with fucking in mind.